California: A Novel

Lupe laughed, turning around. “Sheryl, give her some of the milk.”

 

 

Sheryl unscrewed the thermos slowly. “She doesn’t look thirsty to me.”

 

“Oh, but I am,” Frida said.

 

It was cow’s milk, heated to a foam. It smelled oddly sweet, like the postage stamps her grandfather had collected for nearly his whole life. He liked extinct things. He’d given Frida one for her eighth birthday, and she’d licked it as soon as she was alone in her room.

 

“So there aren’t rules against it?” Frida asked Betty.

 

“Not officially.” She smiled. “But you must have seen the whole drawer of Pills in the Bath.”

 

Frida was surprised, but she knew she shouldn’t be. Micah didn’t want children here, and he’d make sure no accidents happened. Likely, the women were grateful to have access to birth control, certainly procured from Pines.

 

“Otherwise, when it comes to love, we can do what we like,” Betty said. “As long as we’re discreet, that is.” She grinned. “And those who prefer to abstain pretend everyone prefers that.” She nodded at Anika.

 

“I never said that!” Anika said. “It’s just my own personal choice.”

 

“You’re our nun,” Betty said.

 

“Ha,” Sheryl said. “You and Micah.”

 

“My brother?” Frida said. “Really? He used to be such a dog.”

 

“He’s too serious for all that now, I suppose,” Anika said.

 

“The fact that he’s never been interested in sex made us like him,” Betty said. “He never touched us.”

 

The women fell silent.

 

“Who knows what happens on his treks off the Land,” Lupe said.

 

“Micah leaves?” Frida said. “With August?”

 

“Not often,” Betty answered. “Occasionally he needs to help August at Pines. They have to lug these big containers of soil. Sometimes cantaloupes or lettuce, whatever it is that we’re trading that month.”

 

“I bet he just wants to get away from us,” Lupe said. “It can be pretty boring around here. Maybe he has a secret wife living in the woods.”

 

The other women laughed.

 

“Micah? Can you imagine him having a wife?” Sheryl said as she reached her hand out behind her. She wanted the cup back.

 

Anika turned to grab the cup from Frida. “I hope you weren’t hoping for a top-secret meeting of the minds tonight. It’s just us ladies, gabbing.”

 

“Sure, it is,” Frida said.

 

“Micah should bring his secret wife here. It’s not like someone is going to try to steal her,” Lupe said. “No one goes after other people’s partners here. Monogamy is respected, rare as it is.”

 

“She’s saying you don’t have to worry about your husband,” Betty said.

 

Frida shook her head. “It didn’t even occur to me that I should.”

 

Now all four women were looking at her closely, as if trying to gauge her truthfulness.

 

“Not even his eye wanders,” Sheryl said, oraclelike.

 

“I don’t know about that,” Frida said. “But he’s a good man.”

 

“You don’t worry when he leaves you at night?” Anika asked.

 

“He’s with some of the other men,” Frida said. She paused. “And at dawn he goes to see my brother. And, Lord, if they’re being amorous, I don’t want to know.”

 

The women laughed, almost loudly enough to be heard over the singing voices. The song sounded melancholy now, the key too high for most, but still the singers tried to reach it.

 

“The Vote’s coming up,” Anika said. She was looking at Sheryl.

 

“I know,” Sheryl said. She turned to Frida. “Glad you could make it here tonight.”

 

So Anika wanted Frida to get to know her friends, to prove to them that the new girl was cool. That she could fit in. That she was worth voting for.

 

“I’m glad I could come,” she answered. She smiled. “If you keep me on the Land, I’ll let you sleep with my husband.” She winked at Anika.

 

Sheryl snorted.

 

“I thought you’d never offer!” Betty said, and they all laughed again. Frida felt the pride that being funny brought, and for the first time in days, she felt happy, and safe.

 

 

 

The women left before the fire got too low, but Frida stayed. She wanted to listen to the singers for a little longer, she said. She promised Betty she’d return the shower curtain picnic blanket to the outdoor lounge. The night air, scraped clean by the rain, felt good on her face.

 

Rachel showed up soon after the women left. Without the guitar to guide her, Rachel began to sing “This Little Light of Mine.”

 

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